These Marks Are Untold Stories
by evening spirit
Summary: Post Season One finale. Triplett insists he's the one who should interrogate the prisoner. He has reasons, but he's reluctant to reveal them to the new Director. INCOMPLETE and discontinued. Don't like, don't read.
1. Chapter 1

*** THIS STORY IS ON TEMPORARY HIATUS ***

I'm not sure it will be continued. I had waaay too many ideas at one point, then had to chose one of them to complete. This wasn't it. But then, there's no shame in admitting that I didn't finish a story, right? It happens and seriously? It is a hobby, there are no obligations here.

At least now you don't have to continue reading, because you know there's no solution.

**I am truly sorry for not continuing this story.**

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**Summary: **Post season one finale. It's Triplett who's going to interrogate the prisoner.

**A/N: **Someone, please, tell me to stop having ideas!

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**These Mark Are Untold Stories**

**Chapter One**

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They all got separate rooms in the Playground base. It was large enough to accommodate a small platoon, actually. Before Trip managed to acquaintance himself with his new quarters though, he got a message from Coulson.

"Bus. Command Center. Now," it said.

And then:

"Don't tell girls."

Apparently 'girs' were only Jemma and Skye, because Melinda May was already standing next to Coulson, her face set, her posture vaguely threatening.

"I want to have it off my fringe as fast as I can," Coulson stated. "So I'll simply tell you, that we have cargo onboard. I don't want either Skye or Jemma to know about it, but I'm gonna need help from the two of you in handling it." His fingers danced on the table and one of the side screens lit up, showing the inside of the Bus's cell. "I can't trust any authorities with him. Hydra may be everywhere and even if not, there isn't a cell he won't break out of. Whatever we think about him, we cannot afford to underestimate him. He is one of the best spies out there. That's why I'm going to conduct the interrogation myself. And I'll need your backup."

"Phil," May said gently, "maybe I-"

"No," he didn't let her finish that thought. "You've done enough already and he played with your feelings, with your..." Coulson gritted his teeth. "I won't, I can't let you get any more tainted even by being in his presence."

"I don't need your protection, Phil," May didn't sound offended. More like concerned. Coulson turned to her.

"But I need to protect you. At least from this. Please, let me."

Triplett thought that, actually, neither of them was suited to deal with the traitor they had in custody. Both of them were wounded by his actions too deeply.

"I think it should be me," he stated firmly.

"No, it shouldn't be you," Coulson slammed his palm against the surface of the table and tensed, shook his head, curled that palm into a fist, breathing deep and long. "I'm sorry," he uttered. "I said I only needed you to be a guard, in case. You may observe. But I won't let you in there with him."

"With all due respect, sir," Trip spoke quietly, with conviction. He knew how delicate the situation was, but he had solid arguments. "He had never betrayed me personally, because we weren't in the same team before the Hydra reveal. His S.O. betrayed me, if anyone. That makes me less emotionally compromised, sir. Besides," he turned to look at the screen and a figure sitting in the corner, legs curled up to his chest, eyes open, vigilant. Something churned in his stomach. "I was with Garrett for a few months. I have learned ways to torture a person you wouldn't imagine."

"We wouldn't imagine?" May doubted it possible.

Trip looked at her with a smirk. "Trust me, I feel evil to the core just remembering."

May shook her head and Trip turned back to Coulson. "Please, let me do this." He had another agenda too, one he wouldn't tell Coulson just yet. He'd heard stories, while with Garrett. Stories about Ward. He needed to see how true they were. His present commander hesitated, so Trip added one more reason. "Someone needs to take a look at his injuries, too and I have medical training. Unless you want him to develop infection and sepsis, or asphyxiate due to swelling in his throat and airway compromise. Both those deaths would be sufficiently painful but I don't think that's what you want. He's more useful alive, what with his knowledge of Hydra."

Coulson gritted his teeth but he nodded.

"Great, I'll go get the first aid kit then."

"What? You're gonna do this now?"

"You wanted to wait until tomorrow, right?" Trip smiled softly. "I'm afraid it's not an option if we really care about his survival. If you too need some rest, you may set up the recording and watch it in the morning. I'm not going to interrogate him now, either way, I just want to see how severe his injuries are."

In the end May decided to stay and watch and Coulson left to see if Skye and Jemma were settling down alright.

Triplett marched down the corridor to the prisoner cell, uncertain if he really wanted his suspicions to be revealed as truthful. If it wouldn't only make things worse.

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t.b.c.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Thanks for all the reviews. :) I'm not sure if I responded to reviews for this story, so, in case I didn't, I wanted to say right now how much I appreciate warm words from you guys. They mean a lot to me and they are the best encouragement to keep writing, so if you enjoy this chapter, I'd be very happy to learn about it. :)

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**Those Marks Are Untold Stories**

**Chapter Two**

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In S.H.I.E.L.D., everyone had secrets. Fury kept the details of Coulson's resurrection even from the man himself. Coulson, when he learned some things, wouldn't tell anyone about it. Melinda May knew vague details anyway but she held her knowledge away from everyone else on the team and, in secret, spied on Coulson for Fury. Simmons wanted to research the treatment, but she couldn't let anyone know what she was doing. While Garrett and Ward... well they played on a whole different level. Triplett could play those games too. He had a secret he hadn't revealed to Coulson yet and while he felt somewhat guilty about it, he realized that duty and loyalty came before friendship.

Part of his secret involved Grant Ward and regret about not intervening sooner, when he might have changed things for everybody, weighted on Trip's conscience heavier than that about being dishonest toward his new team. Problem was, he didn't know enough back then. Hell, he didn't know enough even now, all he had were rumors and his gut feeling.

He hesitated briefly before entering the cell. It was a reflex more than actual uncertainty. After all, he had made a decision already. He would uncover the truth about the bizarre relationship between John Garrett and his favorite specialist. An inhale, an exhale and Triplett turned the key to the cell.

The interior was very bright, the illuminessence forcing Trip to squint before his eyes adjusted to it. Of course it was intentional, Coulson didn't want Ward to fall asleep. Not that it was likely to happen anyway; Ward sat in the back corner of the cell, flanked by two walls, with an open view of the entrance and the rest of the room. Alert and vigilant. His one good eye traced the intruder's every movement from the moment Trip opened the door. The other eye was almost completely obscured by the dark purple swell.

Ward's whole face had cuts all over it, splotches of dried blood and bruises. His lips were tightly set but his nostrils flared and he was breathing with his whole body, arms rising and falling, muscles around his mouth strained. He drew his knees up to his chest and held them with his arms, bruised and torn palms clasped tightly. He held his chin low, so Trip couldn't see his chest or neck.

"I won't hurt you," he said first, rising his palms. "See, I only have a first aid kit here, I want to take a look at your injuries. Will you straighten your legs for me?"

Ward didn't make a move. The set expression on his face didn't falter one bit. Trip didn't like the way his breathing rate increased, though.

"Take it easy. We may start with your hands if that's okay? I'll just clean up the cuts with antiseptic, put a bandage on the largest gashes. Can we do that?"

Ward still didn't move but when Trip reached out and touched his hand, he flinched slightly, then forced himself to relax. Trip took it as consent.

In a way Ward reminded Triplett of a wounded animal. A predatory animal, big cat or maybe a wolf. He was sure the specialist still had it in him to, if provoked, lash out one last time, and take the intruder down before May would come to the rescue. So he tried not to provoke. He attended to all the injuries very carefully, explaining what he was about to do and making sure the pain wasn't above acceptable level. The most difficult part was taking off Ward's boot. Some bones inside were shattered and would require surgical repair but if Coulson wouldn't approve the throat surgery, the request to help his prisoner walk without a limp would be negated that much faster. All Trip could do was to apply antibiotic and hope dirt from the nails was washed out by blood and wounds woundn't get infected. Ward never, not once betrayed that he even registered any pain.

"Can we open up a little?" Trip asked, gently pulling at Ward's ankles. Again he was met with a small counteraction, followed with a forced compliance.

With Ward's neck and chest uncovered, Trip could see that everything above the rim of his shirt was one big bruise. Purple and raw red in places. It was swallen too, and that worried him the most. Ward belonged in a hospital, not a prison cell. Such injury may not have been immiediatelly fatal, but it could take a turn for worse any minute. Trying to convince the man currently in charge of S.H.I.E.L.D. and all its operations, that the statments of Convention of Human Rights should be applied to prisoners as well, would be futile. Coulson considered this prisoner a special case. Maybe even not entirely human.

It was solely on Triplett to make sure this prisoner even had a chance at survival.

"Hold on," he said and left the cell. He did not forget to lock it.

But he still did something wrong. "You left the med kit in there with him!" May accused as he strolled through the control center.

"And what would he do with a couple of bandages."

"Oh, you have no idea..." Trip tuned her out. He didn't have time for this. He understood where May was coming from with her hate and need for revenge – Ward endangered people under her care, tricked her, lulled her watchfulness – but there were important factors she knew nothing of. Hell, he only had a vague picture and he had been actively looking for clues for months now. He needed Ward alive. He needed May and Coulson to know the truth. He needed Fury to know the truth, damn it, but Fury was apparently dead, so Coulson and May were the next best thing.

If he had been quicker, if he had been more persistent, he would have stepped in way before things were shot to hell, before Simmons was traumatized for life and before Fitz... He couldn't think like this.

He grabbed pillows and covers from three bunks and returned to the cell, not sparing a moment on disgruntled May.

Ward didn't look like he had made a move in those few seconds that Triplett was away. He didn't look like he had any fight left in him.

Trip tried to ignore the sucking sensation in his stomach and instead focused on preparing the makeshift bed. Two covers on the floor, the pillows allowing for a position with elevated chest and he left the last cover for its original purpose.

"Come over here." He waved at Ward, then stood up and neared the man. "You need help?"

Ward didn't move his head to look up at him. Instead he made a quick gesture that imitated writing.

"You want to say something?" Triplett asked but Ward didn't nod.

He had to leave him alone in his cell again. This time all he got from May was a burning stare. When he returned, Ward still looked like he didn't make a move. And it made sense. He knew the injury may have been severe and that moving, even as little as shaking his head, might aggravate it.

Triplett handed him the writing pad and a pen and Ward started scribbling. His handwriting was hardly readable upside-down, so Trip waited, observing Ward's face instead. His expression remained still for the most part, only toward the end, with his hand hanging above the paper for a few heart beats, Ward's lips quivered, he huffed out a breath and bit them shut. He added something quickly and returned the paper to Triplett, eyes still stuck dawnward.

_I don't know many Hydra secrets_, his note said. _My role in Garrett's team was to disarm bombs, shoot things, or go in and work deep cover missions. If I knew too much, it might endanger the whole organization, in case I was compromised. I can tell you about a few targets I worked last year, drop sites maybe. One probably outdated Cybertech location. I'll cooperate. There's one thing I know of, that might interest you. It's about Skye's background. Garrett didn't have the details, at least I don't think he did. Raina knew._

_Is Garrett really dead?_

The last thing was the question Ward was hesitant to ask. Triplett looked up from the paper and for the first time since his capture he saw emotion in Ward's eyes. A whole myriad of emotions actually, ones he couldn't quite name, they were so conflicting. If he needed any confirmation that his suspicions were true, it was staring him in the face right now.

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t.b.c.

ETA: No bashing of Grant Ward in the comments, please, I consider Ward!hate triggering, so spare me that.


	3. Chapter 3

_Fury: The principle S.H.I.E.L.D. was founded upon was pure.  
__May: Protection.  
__Fury: Protection... one word. Sometimes, to protect one man against himself... other times, to protect the planet against an alien invasion from another universe. It's a broad job description.  
__Coulson: No need to tell me.  
__Fury: But the belief that drives us all is the same, whether it's one man or all mankind. That they're worth saving.  
**~Agents of Shield, episode 1x22**_

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**These Marks Are Untold Stories**  
**Chapter Three**

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Ward didn't react to Triplett confiriming Garrett's death. If anything he closed himself off again, eyes blank, face expressionless. It took a couple of minutes of Trip talking and persuading and urging to at least get him to lay down on a makeshift bed.

When he joined May in the control center, though, he saw that Ward was sitting upright again and glaring at the door. Coulson came in a moment later.

Triplett tried to brace himself, but no ammount of preparation could make him ready for another sting of betrayal he was going to deliver to those people. He hated himself for it, but putting it away wasn't gonna help it anyway.

"One of us needs to keep an eye on him for the next at least 24 hours," he begun. Perhaps he should have said it later, at the end of the conversation, after they would have understood and maybe would be willing to actually help and take care of the man in the cell. But then, there was no guarantee, really, that what he had to say would change their minds in any way. He continued without looking at them, "Ward may go into respiratory arrest and we might need to perform emergency tracheotomy. Frankly I'd rather have Simmons with me," Trip dared a glance at Coulson's face and regretted it immediatelly. If looks could kill... "but I wouldn't dare to ask." He stared at Ward for a moment, an almost motionless figure, only the visible rise and fall of his arms as he breathed in and out, proving that it was a live feed and not a picture. "See, it may not be obvious but the confirmation of Garrett death was an emotional blow. And in case of an injury like his, it may aggravate his condition."

Coulson snorted. "You don't expect me to feel sorry that this Nazi scum misses his daddy figure, do you?"

Trip turned to look at the man who was now his superior, who was supposed to rebuild the S.H.I.E.L.D., whom he looked up to less than a couple of days ago, because his fame as the man who followed Captain America's example, who would uphold S.H.I.E.L.D.'s values, was known to all. His Grandmother knew about Phil Coulson. She used to say that Grandpa would share stories and a bag of M&amp;M's with this man.

"Coulson, Garrett used to be your friend not long ago," he reminded quietly.

"I wouldn't mention that of I were you," Coulson seethed.

May, on his other side, had an expression that spoke louder than words and it wasn't friendly. This was going to be more difficult than Trip had expected.

"Hear me out, both of you, okay." He knew there was no more time for batting around the bush; he had to confront the issue head-on. Having taken a few steps away from them, Trip turned to look at both, May and Coulson, to have them both in his field of vision at the same time. "A year ago," he started, "Fury summoned me to his office and said he had a mission for me. He explained that he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something about that one high level operative rubbed him the wrong way. Yes, you guessed correctly, he was talking about John Garrett. He wanted me to keep an eye on the man. I was supposed to join his team and become his specialist. I have to state here, that Ward was never mentioned in our conversation. Wait, no, he was. Fury noted that it's to our advantege that Garrett's team would be a specialist short."

If anything, Trip got their attention. Coulson glared at him with his hands folded on his chest, brow furrowed and lips curved downward in the most hateful expression he'd ever seen on the man. Meanwhile May stood loose, hands at her sides, chin up, eyes dissecting. Trip rolled his arms and inhaled.

"When I joined Garrett's team, Ward was already with you, but everywhere I turned, I heard about him. Ward this, Ward that, like he was the best thing since sliced bread, you know? Garrett wouldn't shut up about him. It was like, they were so tight, you know? The other guys, not so much. It's not that they didn't like him, they respected him a lot. He was useful, the team needed him, but he never socialized with them. He was always either on a mission or with Garret. It kind of felt like he was above them. He and Garrett had things together."

It hurt to remember. It hurt to realize he had made a mistake, he had omitted important clues. But he had and if he could make things better for everyone now, Trip needed to admit it to them as well.

"I didn't dwell on that. Their relationship felt wrong, but I had other things on my plate, like, I needed to find out what, and if anything at all, was wrong with Garrett's team. If he was involved in something shady. That was my main goal, right? I was poking around. Careful, obviously, I knew how to do my job, but... Well, I spoke to the guys and that prompted some of them to ask questions. The wrong ones. Dan Monroe, Stan Parker, Nina Miller. Their deaths are on me."

"Trip, you can't..." Coulson cut it, followed by May, "It was Garrett who killed them, not you."

As much as he appreciated their understanding, this wasnt' really about him.

"Yes. Sorry. I couldn't foresee that, could I?" he dispelled their concerns. "And I couldn't foresee that Ward was actually the key to uncovering Garrett's secret. But that's what it was. I should have pursued the quest my instinct wanted me to pursue. I should have learnt more about their relationship. It might not only uncover Garrett sooner, it might save you guys a lot of grief and maybe we'd have a chance to save Ward as well."

Coulson and May exchanged glances. They were as far away from the idea of saving Ward as they could possibly be. Triplett didn't know if he could eventually convince them. If it wasn't already too late. If anything he'd say wouldn't fall on deaf ears. He had to try nonetheless.

"You know what eventually pushed me in that direction? To research Grant Ward? I messed a mission. It was poorly planned and we would have risked the lives of our assets if we went through. I hesitated. Hell, I would have hesitated if Fury gave me such order, which I wouldn't be surprised if he did, to be honest, but that's beside the point. The mission went south. Because of me.

"And later, when I stood before Garrett and tried to explain, he punched me. He punched me like sonofabitch, you know. Broke my tooth. And I was, like, whoa! You don't just beat up your men! He froze. Squinted at me, gritted his teeth, executed one-eighty and marched away. The guys, all of them standing around, shook their heads and kept talking that the old man didn't like me. I said, apparently, meaning the punch of course. And they chuckled, you know. They chuckled and kept saying, that's not it. That's not it at all."

Coulson's brow was still furrowed but his face was no longer hateful, it was symathetic instead. He sympathized with Triplett of course, with him getting beatten up by Garrett. Coulson wouldn't beat up his subordinate for messing up a mission. He would have disapproved and his disapproval was scary but that fear was borne out of respect. At least that's what Triplett still believed in. In Garrett's team fear was grounded in his rein of terror.

"It took Dan Monroe to explain things to me," Trip continued quietly. "He told me what it looked like with Ward. If Ward messed up a mission, he said, he would have gotten pummeled until he could barely stand. And he wouldn't say a thing. 'cause he knew when not to speak up. If he mouthed off to Garrett like this, at a wrong moment – because Garrett allowed him to mouth off when he was in a good mood, no one questioned Garrett like Ward did. When Garrett wanted to be questioned. But if Ward would read the clues all wrong and started to question Garrett on the wrong day – he would earn himself a solitary confinement for at least twenty four hours. Complete with sleep deprivation, probably sensory deprivation and God knows what else. If Ward tried to mouth off when he was being punished... I don't know. Monroe didn't know, it had never happened."

Coulson's face now showed sheer and utter disgust. May stood, her expression as indifferent as ever but her eyes shone with inner fire.

Coulson shrugged and shook his head.

"But that's... torture," he uttered finally. "Beating a man up, locking him in solitary? Why would he do that to his own man?"

"To train him," Trip gave the answer everybody in Garrett's team would give.

"Excuse me?"

"You wonder what would happen if you tried to torture Ward for information? Nothing would happen. There's nothing you could come up with, that Garrett hasn't come up with first – and put Ward through. This man, Garrett's best specialist, was taught how to withstand torture, by experience. And he was proud of it, too. Hell, everyone in Garrett's team held him in high regard because of what he was capable of enduring. There's nothing you could do to break him."

"Because he's already broken." Melinda May spoke those words in such a grave tone both Coulson and Trip turned to glare at her. She didn't add anything else though, left the command center and, as far as Trip could tell, left the plane.

Coulson looked after her for a long while, then walked closer to the screen and, eyes on Ward's motionless form, asked, "Why did you tell us all this?"

"Because you need to know. Because if you do, maybe you wouldn't only see him as a monster who hurt and betrayed you, but as a person. As someone worth saving. That's what S.H.I.E.L.D. is all about isn't it?"

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t.b.c.

**A/N:** My headcanon concerning how Triplett knows things about Ward was inspired by a few reaction shots and some comments by Trip on-screen. I made a pic-meta on tumblr, if you're interested.

eveningspirit_tumblr_com / post / 88496005238 / headcanon-triplett-knows-more-than-he-lets-on

I know how it looks, but fanfiction net doesn't allow links. Just remove all the spaces and put dots in place of _ and it should work. Sorry, don't know how to make it more accessible.

**A/N2:** No bashing of Grant Ward in the comments, please, I consider Ward!hate triggering, so spare me that.  
However, reviews in general are not a bad thing. :) They are, actually, the best way to feed the author...


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